Siloam

Another Tuesday night during the fall program at church. This year is a program that we’re calling Transformational Tuesdays. This is essentially a program where we gather together for a meal and then our rector gives us a talk based on the fruit of the Spirit. Today’s lesson was on peace.




Here’s a lesson I sorely needed given the past week. The funny thing is, I realized, before the end of the week, that God had my back the whole time. He let me go through my worries, the whole time carrying me to that point of realization. And then for that to be the topic of the night just floored me (not literally, dear reader, but you get the point). Now, dear reader, if you are not of the Christian faith, you may take a look at what happened the past couple of days and say, “huh… coincidence.” I have to say count the coincidences. How many does it take before a coincidence stops being coincidence?



The talk she gave was really good, and the reading we did, which I will get into later since I don’t want too much from the talk to seep in to my post. Some is okay, but not as much as will be if I do it in this post. It ended with an exercise in meditation, just sitting in Christ’s presence. That, to me, was the best part of the evening. This meditation thing is something that I need to do more often.



The perfect end to what has been a horrible seven days. When my cold hit my chest, it knocked me down and out. My Parkinson’s symptoms reached levels that I had never before experienced. Naturally, the first thing that crossed my mind was, “will this cause a permanent progression of the symptoms?” The unfortunate answer to that is yes, it did, but not so bad as they were during the height of my illness. I’m stiffer, I’m slower, my hand shakes more, but not so much as it could have been.



Even so, it makes me question how safe it is for me to be transferring people from bed to wheelchair. I’ve described the events of the meeting at work twice now, so I won’t be going into detail of it. But when I called last Friday to request a meeting, it was with a heavy heart that I did so.



I don’t know why I called it. I believe that there was something in the back of my mind that’s tired of fighting this damned thing. How about that, I’ve only been dealing with it for the past year, and I’m already tired of fighting it. Every time I seem to get ahead, I seem to lose something else. I lose a little balance, or a little muscle strength. This beast keeps taking, but only a little.



We talked about peace, and then, even now, I want to cry out from the depths of my soul. My eyes are not dry as I write about it, either. I’m not in full blown water works, praise God. Nevertheless, I want to say screw it. Something deep in me wants to let this bastard do what it’s going to do. That something wants to ask, “Why fight it? It’s going to win anyway.”



Now how did a posting starting with peace turn into a lament? Probably because I need to say it and don’t want to make someone listen to my whining. The blog is safe. If I were to say this out loud to someone, face to face, I can’t be certain that I won’t lose it. I haven’t lost it over this yet, and I definitely don’t want to start now. I can put my heart into the blog and never go past having some wet eyelashes. It’s safe here.



Plus there’s the knowledge that if you’ve gotten this far, dear reader, then I can be sure that you want to hear it. When I’m among people, my instincts are to not show weakness. What people can see—what I want them to see—is someone who accepts what’s happening to him and just plods onward. I don’t want someone to see me frustrated because I’m struggling to open the milk carton, or I knocked over something else because I have no concept of how much space is between my hand and an object. I don’t want someone knowing that I’m ready to scream I HAVE HAD ENOUGH at the top of my lungs.



This is where I need the peace that transcends all understanding that we’re promised in Ephesians 4:7. I long for that peace. I yearn for that peace. I’ll make you a deal, dear reader. Pray for me and I’ll pray for you (I’ll do that anyway). Then maybe we both can experience that kind of peace.